Something Wicked This Way Comes
by Voldy's Worst Nightmare
Summary: When a hunt lands the Winchesters an extra crew member, Castiel becomes more than a little hostile. But Sam is convinced that Vix is different somehow, and her determination to prove him right throws the usual preconceptions into question.
1. Chapter 1

Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, but I wish I did.**

**Summary: When a hunt lands the Winchesters an extra crew member, Castiel becomes more than a little hostile. But Sam is convinced that Vix is different somehow, and her determination to prove him right throws the usual preconceptions into question.**

Chapter 1 – Vix

I was used to hunters.

Having been hunted since I left the safe haven of the council in England 2 years ago, I had learned how best to cover my tracks – from using simple glamours to more complicated memory charms as I travelled from town to town – and I knew when hunters were gaining on me.

An uneasy alliance with Hexer – a former friend who, since taking over his father's coven, had started using his not inconsiderable powers for personal gain – meant that I could deal with the hunters as I saw fit, sparing the hunters an unnecessary death and granting my the protection I needed, but Hexer's coven was anxious, with good reason.

The hunters who were chasing me were well-known for their skill, and also for their close relationship with angels.

The hunters' names were Sam and Dean Winchester.

They had been following me for the past 3 weeks and, several close shaves and several memory charms later, they were still following, somehow unaffected by my spells.

_Maybe my memory charms aren't as strong as they used to be_, I dismissed the thought; I had been trained by Balthazar, the head of the council and the most powerful warlock in history, I had bound 130 dark witches and warlocks for 6 weeks before I had begun my training, and I had become a master in a quarter of the time it would take for an average witch.

But that made no difference now; my distinguished record couldn't shake the Winchesters off, and not even teleportation, a risk to even the most powerful of my kind, had failed to shake them off. It was generally accepted that once the Winchesters had your scent you were as good as dead already.

I, however, had no intentions of dying young.

I checked into a motel and performed all manner of powerful protection charms before crashing on the bed and allowing 3 nights' worth of sleep to take over.

…

I woke to a resounding snap as iron shackles were fastened around my wrists. There was a faint hiss, undetectable to humans, as the scent of burning flesh crept into my nostrils.

The scent of _my_ burning flesh.

I tugged at the iron in a vain attempt to break free.

"No use," I glared at the short-haired man as he approached, "Consecrated iron; you're stuck until we decide to let you go."

"You could've at least had the decency to use steel," I growled, "Or silver; do you have any idea what iron does to my skin?"

"Sure we do," the man grinned, "It burns. Why d'you think we used it?"

"Maybe 'cause you're retarded?" I smirked, ignoring the irritation of the iron as it burned, "Iron burns, but only silver binds. Which means," I flexed my fingers slightly, "I can do this,"

The iron shackles crumbled to dust and I leapt up, giving my captor a swift punch in the face before throwing his ally across the room. He wouldn't be waking up for a while.

I ripped the motel door open and tore down the corridor, hitting the wall as I turned the corner –

- And crashed straight into a man in a long coat whose response was to place a hand on my temple.

Within seconds my eyes rolled back in my head and I collapsed, unconscious.

…

A throbbing headache and a strange dullness of my senses welcomed me into wakefulness in what appeared to be the back seat of a car. What ever it was that my head was resting on rose and fell with the same pattern as a sleeping human, but it was warm and comfortable, so I adjusted my position slightly and frowned at the light clink of metal. I looked at my wrist and sighed; silver handcuffs bound my wrist to a man's.

_Wait – what?_

I jumped and looked up to find myself staring at a long-haired young man, I recognised him as being the one I had thrown across the motel room. He seemed to be sleeping, but I couldn't be sure. It was as if my senses had been dulled; nothing was a bright or loud as it should have been, I couldn't smell as well as I had done before.

_Oh sweet mother earth,_ I thought, _I've gone human_.

"Where are you taking me?" I demanded indignantly, "I haven't done anything wrong."

"You're a witch," the man in the long coat, who was sat in the passenger seat, replied as if it explained everything.

"Oh that's not at all rude is it?" I responded sarcastically, still with my head resting on the hunter's chest; the hunter in question chuckled.

"She has a point, Cas," he pointed out, opening his warm brown eyes in a way that somehow reminded me of a puppy, "From what we've figured out, She's only been stopping the things from hurting humans – what's her crime?"

"It's not what She's done recently, Sam," The man in the passenger seat, Cas, explained as he scowled over his shoulder at my, "It's something she did a few years ago."

"I moved to America?" I suggested, "I bound a few dark covens before I moved?"

"You helped a dark coven kill an angel."

"I did what?" the blank expression more or less proved my innocence according to the man to whom I was handcuffed, "That makes no sense at all."

The next thing I knew I was hand-cuff free and being pressed against a tree by the crazy angel.

"You think this is funny?" he practically snarled at me – I've never been scared of angels or demons before but that literally scared me witless.

"Um… funny ha-ha or funny peculiar?" I asked, attempting to bring back a sense of humour to the conversation, "Because something funny is _definitely_ going on –"

"Anael is dead because of you!" he shouted – I was vaguely aware of a black car pulling over and the two hunters approaching – as I was whacked against the tree again, "And you just act like nothing has happened – you _stole_ her pendant!"

"Dude," I was very thankful that my skin was a kind of coffee colour at this point, because I knew I'd have bruises in the morning, "I've had this pendant since I was nine. How could a _nine year old_ steal a necklace from an angel?"

The angel growled and dug his nails into my arms so hard that I gasped from the pain.

"Cas," the driver shook the extremely angry angel and thankfully brought him to his senses, "let her go,"

Cas growled again.

"Cas, look at her for God's sake," the other hunter (who had the silver cuffs still attached to his wrist) insisted, pointing at my obviously terrified expression, "She doesn't know anything."

Cas eventually let me go and stormed back to the car – it took me a while to realise I was shaking.

"You ok?" I didn't bother to resist as they snapped the silver handcuff back onto my wrist.

"Whoa, he really scared you didn't he?" the driver chuckled when I didn't respond.

"Did," I replied, wondering why everything was swimming, "Does."

I pitched forward and blacked out, senseless again.

…

_The whole town was on fire. People were screaming, picking up what little they could and fleeing from the men on black horses._

"_Where is she?" a gruff man shouted, holding the young woman by her hair and gripping a wicked iron blade in his other hand._

"_No," she begged, tears streaming down her face, "Please, no,"_

_The man smirked beneath his wide-brimmed hat and brought the knife sharply down upon the young woman._

"_Mama!" a little girl came hurtling toward the man and splayed her hands wide, "Mama!"_

_The man's knife stopped just short of the woman's chest and shot into the back of his comrade._

"_Leave her alone," the little girl shouted defiantly; the man chuckled._

"_Found you." He reached toward her, letting go of her mother as he did so –_

_- and shrieked as his arm turned to dust._

_He staggered back, away from the child and his arm reformed, untouched._

"_Little wretch!" he pulled another knife from his holster; the little girl screamed._

_Suddenly the man stopped, his eyes began to glow, he screamed as they burned._

_Unseen arms swooped around the little girl and transported her, still screaming into a circle of men and women._

"_Take this," a pendant found its way around the girl's neck, "When the time is right, my brother will come for you, and then it will all make sense,"_

…

I jerked awake and stared widely around me; it was a motel room, in the late evening or early morning, I couldn't be sure.

"Morning,"

I jumped and found myself staring at the older of the two hunters.

"You slept well," he smirked.

"I collapsed in the middle of a field," I pointed out, "Not exactly sleeping is it?"

"Whatever," he shrugged, "Sammy and Cas are out at the minute,"

"Cas is short for Castiel isn't it?" It wasn't a question that needed answering.

"Yeah," the guy replied, pulling a can of beer from the fridge, "I'm Dean,"

"I guessed that," I had a killer headache so I wasn't trying to hide my snappishness, "Given that your brother's Sam."

"You've heard of us then?"

"You think?" I couldn't help but chuckle, "I'm not the average supernatural being who just kills without thinking – I don't kill, for one thing, and I research my trackers."

"Trackers?" Dean frowned.

"It's rare that a hunter will catch a witch or warlock," I explained, "regulations against killing innocents meant that we've been able to hide our existence since Salem."

"Since Salem?" Dean took a long sip of his beer and raised his eyebrows, "What about before then?"

"We were more accepted before the hysteria started,"

"So… you gonna tell me your name or what?"

"You've been hunting me all this time and you never bothered to search for my _name?_" I couldn't believe this guy.

"We were a little busy," Dean shrugged.

"Do you want my given name or my chosen one?"

"Both might help."

"Victoria Alice Longman," I replied, "And Vixen. Vix for short"

"In that order?"

"Yep"

There was an awkward silence; Dean drank some more beer.

"Can I ask a question?"

He put his beer on the counter, "sure, go ahead."

"Why's Cas so determined to get revenge for that angel?"

"She was a friend of his," Dean replied, "So he's kind of pissed that you killed her."

"I didn't kill anyone." I growled

"Sure you didn't," he didn't sound too much like he cared, "So why've you got her pendant?"

"Like I said earlier," I responded acidly, "I've had it since I was a kid."

I didn't like Dean Winchester.

"Cas seems to think otherwise,"

"Yeah well," I responded, "Castiel always was quick to assume –" I stopped, frowning; I'd never met Castiel before. Why did I know that?

Dean smirked; "so you know him?"

"I…" I scowled at my cuffed hands, "I don't know – I don't remember meeting him."

I was saved from more awkwardness by the aforementioned angel and Sam Winchester walking into the room.

Castiel rather brutally undid the handcuffs on my wrists and produced a solid silver bracelet.

"For me?" I asked with all the sweetness and sarcasm I could muster, "You shouldn't have, darling,"

The Winchesters snorted as Castiel snapped the bracelet onto my wrist.

"Don't think you're special," he grumbled, "This is to make sure that you're bound without drawing attention."

"Only an angel can remove it, I presume?" I was enjoying watching him squirm after he'd beaten me up yesterday.

"Yes," was all he said before storming off, "Dean,"

Dean shrugged and followed him.

"You ok?" Sam asked, "You were out cold for a while."

"Hey," I grinned, "I got attacked by a group of men, assaulted a psychotic angel and woke up handcuffed to a bed, what's to be not okay about?"

"Nice to see that you're still cheerful," Sam grinned, "Sam Winchester," he introduced himself.

"I know," I replied, shaking his hand, "Dean told me. I'm Vix."

"Vix?"

"Victoria Longman," I grimaced, "But most just call me Vix."

"You know you're only gonna make things worse," he pointed out, indicating the bracelet, "He's pissed enough already without you pushing buttons,"

"I happen to like pushing buttons," I smirked, "And after waking up in handcuffs 3 times in one day I think I've earned the right to wind him up."

"We've got a hunt," Dean announced, "corpses turning up all withered and old in Alabama,"

"Vix?" I must have had a pretty surprised (or annoyed) expression on my face to have earned the one word "are you okay?" line.

"I shut them down months ago." I growled, "How the hell are they still leeching?

"Who?" Cas demanded.

I looked Cas steadily in the eye.

"We're dealing with the drainers."

...


	2. Chapter 2

Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Disclaimer: still don't own Supernatural, but I'm working on it XD**

**Also if you read it, I get alerts that tell me whether you've alerted or favourited my story, so could you please review to? I'd love to get some feedback! Thanks to LyricsArePoetry for reviewing the last chapter first! :D**

Chapter 2 – Sam

"What's a drainer?" I asked; Vix smiled grimly.

"They're an old coven," she explained, "They absorb the life force of others to make themselves stronger, something to do with immortality."

"What you guys aren't immortal anyway?" Dean asked.

"Hell no," Vix replied, "We age a lot slower and live a lot longer than mortals but that longevity depends entirely on how powerful the individual is."

"So these drainers take power from other covens?" I asked.

Vix shook her head, "No, it's worse than that,"

"Then what is it?" Dean asked, sounding a little agitated.

"Another term for the drainers," Vix explained, "The one people normally use, is life leeches."

"Well that explains the corpses,"

"Dean," even Cas sounded appalled.

"The ones attacked are usually young," Vix began with a scowl, "Vital, somewhat naïve, easily persuaded."

"How do they do it?" Dean asked.

"I'm not familiar with the process," she seemed offended that Dean would suggest something like that, "But I believe it involves full moons – that's the time when the veils are thinnest –"

"Except Halloween and the winter solstice," I added, "Sorry,"

"You're not a new-ager are you?" Vix asked.

"No," I asked, "Why?"

Vix shrugged, "No reason," she turned and looked Dean in the eye, "If we're going to shut them down, we'll need to leave as soon as possible."

Dean grinned and pulled the keys out his pocket, "Get packing,"

…

We'd been on the road for several hours; Cas was reading the map for Dean in the front seat.

I was sat in the back seat with Vix who, for the third car journey in a row, was asleep against my shoulder.

She was kind of pretty in an elfish kind of way; she had light coffee-coloured skin, dark, almond-shaped eyes and curly black hair. High cheekbones and a strong jaw line that would've made most people look skeletal made her seem strong and noble.

"You guys okay back there?" Dean asked with a smirk.

"Shut up," I replied; he chuckled.

"Man, you really took a shine to her," he continued, "If I didn't know any better I'd say –"

"Dean," I interrupted, "Shut up."

Dean smirked and turned to look at me.

"Dean," Vix reprimanded with a yawn, "Keep your eyes on the road,"

She opened her eyes and looked at him coolly, "eyes on the road, boyo,"

I snorted as Dean turned, grumbling, to focus on the road.

"Where are we now?" Vix asked.

"We're about 5 miles out of Birmingham," Cas replied tersely; Vix frowned.

"But…" she shook her head, "You mean Birmingham, Alabama don't you?"

"Where else?" Dean grinned.

"Someone didn't pay attention in geography class," Vix grinned, "Birmingham in England, naturally,"

"Which of course isn't as good," I added.

"You're kidding," Vix looked at me with an offended look, "_my_ Birmingham was here first, yours is just a very bad copy,"

Dean chuckled and continued driving.

"By the way," Vix added, "if I wake up to people singing 'sweet home Alabama' I will kill you."

She closed her eyes again and within moments she was asleep again.

"Man I wish I could do that," Dean grumbled as he floored the gas.

…

I must've fallen asleep because I woke up just as we pulled in to a motel.

"We're here?" I asked.

"N'aww," Dean replied, "We're stopping for the night, we'll head in tomorrow."

He switched the ignition off and grinned, "Best wake up your girlfriend,"

"She's not my girlfriend!" I snapped; Vix stirred.

"Hmm?" she asked, "What? Where are we?"

"Just outside of Birmingham," I explained, "We'll head in tomorrow morning."

"Right, cool" Vix shrugged, undoing her seatbelt and stepping out the car, Cas, Dean and I followed suit.

"Okay, so it'll be one room?"

"Make it two," Vix responded automatically, "I'm not sleeping in a room with you guys,"

"You're not staying on your own," Cas insisted.

Vix smirked, "Well I guess if you're into that kind of thing…"

"Vix, stop it," I warned.

"Just teasing, Sam," She chuckled and strolled casually toward the motel office, "Well?" she turned and looked at the rest if us, "you coming or what?"

We shrugged and walked in after her.

"Someone's got to tell her she's not running this gig," Dean grumbled.

"Hey," I shrugged, "They're her people, Dean, she probably feels responsible for this,"

"She said that they'd shut the group down," Cas added.

"Well they're back," Dean replied, "Which means we'll have to kill 'em."

"That shouldn't be necessary," Vix replied, "We just need information. And bait."

"Bait?" Dean asked, "Are you suggesting –"

"No," I said flatly, "You're crazy."

"I'm an old-liner," Vix responded, leaning against the wall as Dean went to pay for rooms, "That means I'm powerful, dangerous and protected."

"By what?" I asked.

She looked at Cas as if to say "you tell him,"

"She's a direct descendant of Amaros," Cas explained, "Most of the fallen angels who have witch children don't care what happens to them,"

"But Amaros has this annoying habit of crumbling threats to dust," Vix finished, "He tried to do it to my ex when I was seventeen,"

We all stared at her.

"Joke," she said, "He deals with major problems like hunters or the leeches,"

"What if the leeches are descendants of Amaros?" I asked; Vix let out a short bark of laughter.

"An old-liner?" she grinned, "That's a hoot; all old-liners have the mark – we use it to identify each other, and I can assure you none of the leeches are descendant."

"Seriously?" none of us had realised that Dean had been stood there for the last few minutes.

"The only other old-liner that I know of," Vix explained, "Is Balthazar. He was meant to be the last before I turned up."

"Meant to be?" I raised my eyebrows.

"It's complicated,"

None of us could get her to explain what she meant.

…

Once we'd all settled into the motel rooms (Cas was sharing with Vix, which I thought was a bad idea but she'd seemed okay with the decision) we all crowded into mine and Dean's motel room to pool our information, which admittedly wasn't much.

"Okay," Dean began, "We've got the corpses, which are all aged and decomposing whenever they're found, we've got disappearances in the area –"

"All of whom," Cas interrupted, "are in their thirties or younger,"

"Right," Dean nodded, "And we've got crazy-ass bitches performing full-moon rituals."

"New moon," Vix corrected, "The ceremonies take place at new moons – less light means dark magic prospers more readily,"

"You said full moon earlier," Dean pointed out.

"I was thinking in terms of light mage spells," Vix replied, "the full moon makes the veil thinner but the new moon enables the night to become a tween place – halfway between the old moon and the new,"

"How can you be so sure?" I asked, feeling slightly embarrassed as she turned to face me.

"Three reasons," she explained, "One; I'm a witch. Two; I'm the heir, which means I have to study all methods of magical incantation, dark, light or otherwise. And three," She paused for dramatic effect, "They asked me to join them."

"What?" Dean exploded, "When?"

"I knew you couldn't be trusted!" Castiel exclaimed at the same moment.

"Hey," Vix replied. "It was nearly 3 years ago, and when they insisted I come to one of their circles I did, I bound them and then I left – it seems that the magic they absorbed from their victims was what kept their powers going."

"So you can't bind them?"

"No," her reply was short and sounded a little irritated, "Which means the bait thing is the only option we have."

"We can always find some other way –" Dean began, but Vix cut him off.

"They only take those with power," She explained, "If I'm powerful enough to be given the title of heir, they're bound to take an interest – there will be risks involved, of course, Balthazar isn't one to accept the death of his students lightly, but he and I are the only ones who know my direct lineage apart from you three, and they're not stupid; mind-filching an angel or anyone who's been a vessel either kills or drives most of my kind mad."

"How do they know which ones have been vessels?" I asked.

"The presence of an angel, fallen or otherwise," Cas explained, "leaves a mark on the person who was the vessel."

"But they can still find out your lineage from you?" Dean asked, looking directly at Vix.

"No," she replied, "I have this weird habit of showing filchers my worst nightmares before they see anything else – they leave pretty quickly after that,"

"Worst nightmares?" Dean raised his eyebrows sceptically, "What kind of nightmares?"

"Life's never been all sunshine and daisies for me, Dean," Vix replied simply, "And I have a very active imagination,"

Not long after that, we called it a night and decided to rest for our journey into town the next morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Disclaimer: nope, still don't own supernatural.**

Chapter 3 – Vix

I woke up the next morning after a blissfully dreamless sleep to find Cas sat tensely on the sofa.

"Cas?" I was too sleepy at the time to be narky at him, even though I was still wearing the binding bracelet, "What're you doing up so early?"

"I'm not up early," He replied, "I'm up late."

I stared at him, "Do you seriously not sleep at all?"

"I don't need to sleep."

"Huh," I shrugged, "Figures, bird-boy,"

"I'd rather be a 'bird boy'" he replied, making little finger quotes around the word, "Than a heathen,"

"Touché," I smirked and casually made my way to the shower, "By the way, I may be a witch but I still require privacy when in the bathroom, just in case you didn't know," I closed and locked the door behind me before spending a full ten minutes trying to figure out how you were supposed to turn the shower on.

…

By the time I was showered, dressed and ready to go, the Winchesters had begun their plan of action concerning the hunt.

"Okay," Sam was saying, "So, I was thinking maybe if we asked Mrs Cavendish, Mr Harlow –"

"They're coven members," I stated, striding in, "They probably won't suffer humans who aren't connected to the authorities on their land without good reason."

"Coven etiquette I guess?" Dean asked; I nodded, looking at the newspaper clippings spread out across the table.

"The Valiad coven's the main one in the area," I continued, "There are a few smaller covens but they're mostly pure whites and new agers so they rarely draw attention to themselves."

"And the leader of this coven is who?" Dean asked.

I pointed to a picture of a man with iron grey hair and beard and a tailored black suit entitled, "_Mayor Denver: 'we will not bury our heads in the sand!'_"

"Thomas Denver," I explained, "started life as your average warlock, when he became the coven leader he was in the middle of running for his first term in office."

"You're a friend of his, then?" Castiel asked.

"More of an acquaintance," I explained, "The council in London may be the highest authority for witches and warlocks but it's rare that all the coven leaders meet. The only time I met him was after I accidentally performed a teleporting spell that made me appear in the middle of his office."

Sam snorted, Dean grinned but Cas lived up to the angel stereotype and showed no emotion whatsoever.

"So, we'll need to ask him if we can hunt these leeches down?" Sam asked.

"Yep," I replied, "It's an etiquette thing again and it means he knows you guys aren't a threat."

"He's the mayor?" Dean asked.

"Yes," I replied slowly, "why?"

"Well doesn't that mean we'll have to make an appointment or something?"

"No," Vix seemed confused, "Why would we need an appointment? We can just tell his secretary we need to see him."

"And then we'll be asked if we have an appointment," Sam pointed out.

I sighed; "Alright, fine. If that happens follow my lead."

…

"Do you have an appointment?"

"Told you,"

I glared at Dean and turned to the secretary, "Look, can you tell Tom I need to see him? It's urgent."

"The mayor has a conference in 20 minutes and he needs to prepare. He said no disturbances." The secretary insisted; I resisted the urge to throttle her.

"Look," I said as calmly as I could manage, "If you refuse to allow me to see my godfather I _will_ get you fired."

The secretary snorted; "You can't be his goddaughter,"

"Oh no?" I challenged with a smirk, "daddy is a good friend of the mayor – surely uncle Tom would have mentioned Balthazar Blake a few times?"

The secretary paled, "I'll see if he's free,"

I beamed at her; "Thank you,"

A moment later we were walking up the stairs to Mayor Denver's office.

"I thought you said your name was Longman?" Dean asked.

"I've used the 'daddy' ploy," I explained, "as a means of getting to important coven leaders since I was a kid. They all know Balthazar, and the employees are always told to allow anyone who is connected to him to see them without the usual protocols – one of the perks of being Balthazar's student is that on travels he passes you off as family,"

The door opened before we reached it and a young man in a business suit stormed out.

"You can't ignore them any longer, father!" he yelled, "They took Adeline yesterday, what more must they steal before you take action?"

"Action is already being taken, Giles," I responded, "you coven can't take them on without help so I took the liberty of calling in the cavalry,"

Giles snorted with distaste at Sam, Dean and Castiel, glaring at them with storm-grey eyes, "Hunters? He asked, "What can they do for us?"

"The Winchesters," I emphasised, "And Castiel, who just so happens to be an angel, are here to help put a stop to the leeching nonsense."

Giles growled and made to leave, but I grabbed his arm, "You need to hear this," I said, "If your sister's been captured then you my have an incentive to help us."

"Who are you to lay a hand on me?" He demanded, "I am the heir to the Valiad!"

"And Vixen," Tom Denver appeared at the door, "Is the heir of Balthazar. You'd do well to hold your tongue,"

Giles let out a short bark of laughter, "Her?" He sneered, "Balthazar's heir?"

I'm pretty sure a mischievous smile appeared on my face just then, because Castiel threatened to put the bracelet back on my wrist, after having grudgingly agreed to remove it during the hunt.

Without a word, I hauled Giles back into the office with the hunters and Cas following me before I closed the door and turned to face the arrogant son of the mayor.

"You chose the wrong person to sneer at, Giles," I pointed out calmly, pulling what appeared to be a small tiger charm from my pocket and setting it on the floor.

"What're you going to do," Giles snorted, "bring it to life?"

"What an excellent idea," I beamed before casually clicking my fingers and pointing at the charm; within seconds a life-size, very real tiger was stood in the middle of the room, growling at a rather scared-looking Giles.

"I meant still as a charm!" he squeaked as the tiger approached him.

"Vlad," I chided the tiger, "where are your manners? Say hello to Giles, _gently_"

The tiger suddenly stopped growling and rubbed his head against Giles's leg, knocking him over.

I eventually took pity on Giles and transported the tiger to the council in London for safe keeping.

"Believe me now?" I smirked as the mayor helped his son to his feet again.

After a few minutes of grumbling we all sat round the dark mahogany table.

"I would've preferred Ash," Tom began, "But this is the traditional desk so I have to use it until it gets destroyed."

"It could be arranged," I managed a small smile, "We're here about the leeches."

"I guessed as much," Tom nodded, "Balthazar wouldn't have asked you to come otherwise,"

"Balthazar didn't send me,"

"You mean you discovered the problem of your own accord?" Giles raised his eyebrows quizzically.

"Actually," Dean interrupted, "We found it a couple of days before we ran into Vix."

"I wasn't aware that the coven had survived the binding in Ohio," I explained, much to the amusement of Giles who snorted loudly, "It's lucky they did tell me; I haven't been contacted by the council since I came to America."

"I thought the Council was being a little quiet," Tom mused, "The French aren't causing any trouble, I hope?"

"They wouldn't dare," I was surprised to find Giles joining in on that statement; Sam and Dean just smirked.

"Since the eclipse they haven't bothered trying to take us over," I continued, "I'm not usually one for politics but I had to do a lot of bickering with the French ambassador at the time,"

"Which, I hear," There was a hint of amusement in Tom Denver's voice, "resulted in him having to leave on health grounds?"

"The current ambassador is much more agreeable," I don't think Cas failed to notice the smirk on my face, "But Balthazar ensures me that they're keeping a weather eye out in case he decides to do anything absurd,"

"Look," Dean interrupted, "I know you guys probably like to talk in circles before getting to the point, but the fact is that I was told we need a permit to do our job here."

"Since you're moving in magical circles," Tom replied, "That is standard procedure, yes."

"Well," Dean prompted, "Can we have a permit to hunt these evil sons of bitches?"

"As long as you aren't going to use such language again,"

"Tom," I reasoned, "He's human, he's not aware of our culture" I turned to Dean, "Most of the old-timers don't approve of swearing,"

"I'm less of an old-timer than you are, if the theories are to be believed, Vixen," Tom chuckled.

"What theories?" Cas asked.

"Irrelevant at the moment, Cas," I interrupted hastily, "Let's focus on the task at hand."

"Well," Tom began, "It'll have to be a verbal agreement, seeing as it's short notice, but if you can stop them –"

"We can," Cas assured him.

"Then I expect it to be done before my daughter is killed."

"Would you expect anything else?" I smiled grimly, "It'll be done by the next new moon."

"I hope so," Tom replied, "I sincerely hope so,"

Something about his expression troubled me as we left, and I was vaguely aware of the boys asking me questions as we walked toward the motel, but they weren't questions I could answer.

…

The next new moon was 2 days away when Sam, Dean and Castiel started to interview victims and look at the medical evidence – personally I was trying to see how many communication spells it would take to locate the coven. I understood that they wouldn't want to speak to me at first, given that I'd attempted (and, annoyingly, failed) to bind them a few years back, but after failing to be granted communication by magical means, I managed to track down the coven leader and call her on her mobile phone.

"Hello, am I speaking to Karin Delaney?" I tried to keep my voice as pleasant as possible, "Hi, this is Victoria Longman…"

…

It was the night before the new moon when I met with Karin on the circle field. Her coven surrounded her, giving her the appearance of strength and superiority.

I didn't need a coven to back me up; I emerged from the trees in silence, wearing civilian clothes and with my hair tied back in a messy, careless ponytail, but I like to think I outclassed her.

"What do you want?" Karin asked curtly – common knowledge was that "Vixen" was the heir of Balthazar, not "Victoria" as I had introduced myself, so she was unaware that she was speaking to a high-ranking member of the Council.

I preferred it that way.

"An exchange," I replied; "The girl's life for mine."

Karin laughed scornfully.

"Why would we exchange a power such as hers?" She asked, "for the life of one who travels with hunters? This could be a trap."

"It could," I acknowledged with a slight nod, "Or they could be unaware of what I am doing."

"They have an angel with them," Karin pointed out, "He at least would know – and they have both been vessels,"

"That doesn't make them immune to the written note,"

"Which undoubtedly states that you have 'gone to see family'?" Karin sneered, "They will never fall for that."

"This is a hunt," I replied, exercising the patience I had learned during my training, "I simply told them I had gone to ask a few of the victims of your attacks if they knew any information. I stated that I would not be back for a while,"

"And you expect them to believe you?"

I chuckled, "The younger of the two would most likely believe me if I said I was a 400 foot tall purple platypus bear." I hated sounding so callous about Sam after his kindness, but it was common for witches to have little regard for humans, "And the others would, I'm sure, trust his judgement – he is the most level-headed of the three after all."

"Then that prove advantageous for you," Karin commented dryly, "But how can we be sure that you are powerful enough to replace the girl?"

"You wish for proof?" I smirked and plucked a twig from the ground, "Will this be enough?" the twig hovered in mid-air, shifted and became a living, breathing Irish wolfhound. It stood for a few moments in the centre of the circle before bounding off in the direction I had come from with an alarmed bark.

Karin raised her eyebrows, "Impressive," She commented, "that is a trick worthy enough to have come from Balthazar himself."

"I was his student a long time ago," I replied, "I graduated shortly after he accepted Vixen as a student."

"A high honour indeed," Karin's smile was meant to set me at ease, but the calculating glint in her eye indicated that she was concocting a plan. I had to be prepared for anything.

"She could not have been taught by Balthazar," the high priest – whose name I forget – glowered at me suspiciously, "She doesn't bare the marks."

"Oh and you would know?" I responded with as much scorn as I could muster, "Balthazar's students bear no greater marks than anyone else unless the bare scars from the physical training. Rumours to the contrary are just that – rumours." He flinched under the gaze of his high priestess, "As a high priest, you should be aware of that,"

"Oh I am," the priest replied, "I just wanted to ensure that you are who you claim to be."

"I claim to be no one."

"If you want this girl to be released," Karin interrupted, "We need to be assured that none of your hunter friends will interfere."

"If you wish I can perform the dispelling charms myself,"

"That would be wise."

"There is one thing that I request from you."

"Name it," Karin smirked, "If you are expecting to donate your life to spare another's, it is only right that you are given a last wish."

"You let the girl go free," it was more of a demand than a request, "Tonight, and you _never_ go near that family or young children again. If you do," I advanced so that I was standing directly in front of her, "Then I swear by the power of my forefathers I will rise from the dead and tear every single one of you life-leeches to shreds."

"Sounds fair," Karin smirked, "Are you prepared to be resurrected as a withered corpse?"

"Who said I'd be a corpse?" I smirked, "give the girl to me; I'll take her back to her family."

"And then you will return?"

"When has a student of Balthazar ever gone back on their word?"

A few minutes later Adeline was back in her father's home.

"I can't thank you enough for this," Tom smiled warmly, "How did you get them to let her go?"

I didn't respond, "They'll leave you alone now," I replied, "I made them swear it."

"At what cost?"

Again I was silent.

"Vixen, at what cost?"

It was Giles who realised first; "You gave yourself in exchange,"

"Vix, no," Tom insisted, "They'll kill you."

"They can't," I replied, "I have ties,"

"Vix," Giles looked me in the eye, "You're meant to be the next High Councillor – you can't just go getting yourself killed."

"Kieran did," I replied, dipping my head slightly to Tom, "Goodnight, both of you." I vanished before they could stop me.

…

"You came,"

"Don't sound so surprised," I snapped, "It was agreed,"

I was shut in an abandoned cabin in the middle of the large expanse of woodland and, given that I had resigned myself to the ritual set out for the following night, I decided to spend my time actively.

I wore most of the night and the following day away reading and finally succumbed to sleep at noon, slumbering dreamlessly until sunset. At twilight, two of Karin's underlings opened the door and flanked the leech high priestess as she stood in the shadow of the door.

"It's time."


	4. Chapter 4

Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Disclaimer: I don't own supernatural. Sorry for the long wait!  
**

**I get e-mails saying who's favourited the story so if you have can you please review too? I know I'm sounding whiny but I'd like to get feedback from you all if that's okay :)**

Chapter 4 – Vix

If there is any phrase in any language that I loathe and despise with every fibre of my being, it has to be "it's time". It's pompous, arrogant and only ever used in films.

Or in the life-leech coven, apparently.

I followed them to the circle, still in civilian garb, and offered no resistance as they bound me to the wooden stake in the centre of the clearing – a heady mix of herbs made to enhance the powers of the circle clung to the heavy air. I pushed all doubts from my mind; if my plan was going to work, I had to be focused.

I didn't even know if my plan _would_ work, that was true, but whatever happened I had saved the lives of various covens in offering my life in exchange, and that was worth something… wasn't it?

Karin began her incantation with a binding spell, evidently hoping that she would be able to stop me from performing any incantation that would revoke her own, and I, bound to the stake as I was, simply hummed an old melody – incantation in melody was one of the most powerful kinds of incantation and it's a notoriously difficult art to perfect; Balthazar is the only person who can successfully perform song enchantments consistently, and it took him over a hundred years to do so. Personally I'm hopeless at them, but I can normally conjure up a suitably large explosion to disrupt any incantations for the next twenty miles.

Which is exactly what I intended to do here.

Typically, of course, things never go according to plan and the "explosion" I "conjured" was actually Castiel being annoyed.

Or rather, another angel turning up and reducing the leeches to dust and Cas being annoyed that this particular angel had decided to show up at all.

The angel in question was Amaros.

"I would have thought, Victoria," he said as he jovially linked arms with me and walked me to the outer boundaries of the circle, where Sam, Dean and Cas were waiting, "you would have learnt from the last time you tried to get yourself killed that I'm only ever going to let you die of old age."

"I wasn't trying to get myself killed, grandfather," I replied with a chuckle, "I was trying to save the humans both times."

"Or in this case, witches," Amaros nodded, "it's a very admirable idea, child, but unfortunately not practical; I may not be able to protect you forever."

"I had a plan," I replied, inwardly cursing myself for sounding like a small child.

"Your plan was to blow up the entire forest," Amaros chuckled; "How are you going to do that when bound in silver?"

"I'm not bound in silver,"

"Yes, Vixen, you are," he held up my hand to reveal a twisting, vine-like bracelet with a sapphire encased in silver wings.

"It was your grandmothers," Amaros replied, "The single, most valuable thing she possessed; unfortunately I had to keep it so that her children could practice the arts unhindered,"

"And you slipped it onto my wrist when?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

"You were asleep in the vault," Amaros replied, "I knew you were planning to do some sort of damage so I thought it best if I do the damage for you,"

"Thanks for that," I responded sarcastically, "Nice to know that my ancestors care about me so much,"

"You should be grateful," Amaros grinned, "This one actually comes off when you want it to,"

"Amaros," Castiel acknowledged my grandfather's presence with a nod and slight scowl.

"Castiel," Amaros nodded, "Still obeying orders?"

"That's none of your concern,"

"I'll take that as a yes," Amaros seemed slightly amused by Castiel's irritation, "How are our brothers? It's been a long time since I last saw them,"

Castiel said nothing and cast a sidelong glance at me.

"Ah," Amaros nodded, "I see; it was only a matter of time before Raphael became jealous of the humans,"

"What aren't you telling me?" I asked them both with a frown.

"Nothing, sweetheart," Amaros replied; "why don't you kids go back to your horses or whatever newfangled contraption you have these days? I need to speak to my brother alone,"

"Why don't you just tell us?" I challenged, "I'm guessing these two know already."

"It would be better if the Nephilim do not discover the affairs of heaven," Castiel replied somewhat tersely, "They may begin to take sides,"

"What, like they did in the apocalypse?" I grinned; "I seem to remember most of those who were informed actually chose the side of the angels,"

"This is different." Amaros replied, "And very complicated."

"I can handle complicated,"

"Vixen," Amaros was no longer the jovial grandfather he had been a few minutes ago, but more the stern, cold angel he had been the last time we had met, "you and the Winchesters will go back to your vehicle, you won't try to listen in and you will wait for Castiel at your motel."

"But –"

"Now, Vixen," Amaros almost snapped at me, "I won't ask again,"

I sighed; "fine," I replied, "Come on, guys," I stalked off; Sam and Dean followed behind me with slightly confused expressions on their faces.

"What was that about?" Sam asked.

"How should I know?" I responded, my irritation showing in my voice.

"I mean the attitude," Sam explained, "it's like you started acting like a kid as soon as he asked you to leave,"

"it's not so much what he said," I replied, "As what he didn't say, and what he forbade me from doing."

"How can we listen in from here anyway?" Dean asked as if it was a stupid idea.

"Witch, Dean," I snapped, "It's called spell craft."

"Oh,"

We drove back to the motel in silence. When we got back, I immediately shut myself in my room with a spell book, flicking through absently until I came to the section I had been reading; songcraft.

None of the spell books in my possession were written in English; most of them are written in Latin, a couple are in Greek, but the rest are written almost entirely in Enochian sigils, so there's very little chance of anyone understanding them.

Anyone who doesn't read those languages anyway, which is definitely the motel staff.

I was still sat there reading when Castiel appeared; I barely noticed him.

"Other room," was all I said; he evidently decided that it wasn't worth trying to reason with me when I was reading and went next door to talk to the boys.

I don't know when it was I fell asleep, but I didn't wake up until the next morning, when I found Castiel, leafing through the book I had been reading the previous night.

"What're you doing?" I asked.

"Reading,"

"Did you ask?"

"I did not want to disturb you,"

"Well," I sat up and sorted out the crick in my neck, "Nice to know you're so flipping _considerate,_" I hauled myself round so I could get up, "God I feel like I'm hung over,"

"What did you drink?"

"Water," I replied, "the hangover's from the attempt to stop the leeches yesterday," I grabbed some aspirin and downed it with some water from a bottle nearby, "I hope these things work,"

Dean walked in a few seconds later.

"Rise and shine, Vix!" he called; I groaned and clutched my head.

"Would it kill you," I asked, "to be a few _gazillion_ decibels quieter?"

He took one look at me; "What happened to you?"

"I fell asleep is what happened," I growled, "after trying to cast a spell against the leeches."

"You look like crap."

"Thanks, Dean, really," I chuckled, fully aware that I would look like death itself, "I'll be fine in a few minutes; I just need some coffee or something."

"Good thing Sam just went to get some then," Dean grinned, "You look like Sean of the dead or something,"

"I look like a zombie in the morning anyway," I shrugged, "I know I probably look a fair bit worse than normal,"

"A bit?" Dean chuckled, stopping only when Sam came into the room with three polystyrene cups.

"Thought you might want some," he handed me one of them.

"Thanks," I practically downed it and immediately felt less zombie-like. I grinned at Sam; "You, my friend, are a life saver,"

Sam chuckled and beckoned to Dean and Castiel to give me some privacy.

…

They were right; I did look awful, but at least it was fixable, unlike the mess my grandfather had left behind him at the circle; typically the police had found it all this morning and claimed there was an arsonist running riot in the town.

It was better than the truth at least.

I couldn't be bothered with fussing over my appearance – I never did – so I just pulled an old Metallica T-shirt and some faded jeans, which I'd ripped accidentally a few months ago, from my beaten up backpack and threw them on after my shower before tying my hair back in a messy ponytail. From experience, I knew better than to use make-up; I tried that once after some girls at a private school I had been going to had "accidentally" thrown a suspiciously hard basketball at my face. For some reason as yet unknown to any of us Nephilim and cosmetics don't tend to mix well. I'd had to use a glamour for about a month before the rash went away.

So when I padded into Sam and Dean's motel room in my chosen clothing and trainers, backpack slung carelessly on one shoulder, Dean seemed mildly surprised.

"I thought girls were supposed to complain about how they looked?" he asked with a grin.

I made a non-committal noise and shrugged before dumping my bag on the floor with a crash; the boys jumped.

"I don't do cosmetics," I replied; "so, where next?"

"Uh," It was Sam who answered; "There's a bunch of demonic omens around Santa Anna,"

"Sounds cool, where else?" I asked.

"What?"

"Anywhere else with weird stuff?" I was trying to sound nonchalant; apparently I failed.

"What's so bad about Santa Anna?" Dean asked.

"Nothing," I replied – this was technically true; there was nothing wrong with the place.

"So why don't you want to go?"

I sighed; "Hexer's coven practise there,"

Once again, it was Dean who reminded me that I wasn't dealing with Nephilim.

"Who?"

…

**That's it for now! The next bit is better I promise (I hope XD)**

**Please review to tell me what you think! :)**

**again sorry for the long wait but it's forgiven right? i mean i've updated at least! XD**


	5. Chapter 5

Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Disclaimer: hello there! Yup! You guessed it! I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL! :P**

**Anyhoo; here be chapter 5, please review and stuff after you read, thanks :P**

Chapter 5 – Vix

Okay, so maybe I should explain what this whole thing is with Hexer in a simpler way than I did to Dean.

Hexer and I grew up together pretty much ever since I appeared in the middle of the council. We started to part ways around the age of thirteen when he became more interested in his father's way of doing things – black magic, killing people who get in the way and such things.

There's still speculation about whether or not he killed his partner's match-mate, but that's another story for another time.

I suppose you could say that Hexer's coven, although nowhere near as dark as the leeches (he knows exactly what I could and would do to him if he chose that path) still pursue an extreme path in their never-ending quest for the ultimate power; they've tried demons, pagan gods, fallen angels, pretty much any kind of lore they could get their hands on to achieve god-like powers. So far all have failed and Hexer, poor, power-hungry and easily-corrupted Nephilim that he is, has suffered from 3 attempted murders and 18 attempted successions. None of those would-be successors survived their duels with him and people soon stopped challenging.

Killing opponents was one of the many things Hexer and I just could not agree on; so much so that I had bound him for it. Three times. He was lucky his partner managed to undo the spell work, but she always was an extraordinarily gifted caster where my skills were more inclined to the unexpected.

Okay, so the summoning of that demon he wanted to see went wrong when I showed up and he nearly ended up summoning Samhain, and okay, I know the zombie thing was totally my fault but I can't help that my powers used to go AWOL when I was 14 – especially because I hadn't completed basics at the time and I'd just been reading a horror novel – and Belgarath had sorted it out anyway.

"I'm not going," I insisted, "If I go he'll probably kill me; we don't get on very well any more. It doesn't matter that Emma's my best friend and they were hand-fasted – _or_ that I performed the ceremony for them when they eloped!"

"Whoa, can you do that?"

"You have to be a member of the council of a higher rank than the people who're getting hand-fasted." I replied, "I'm second from top and both their parents had insisted Balthazar refuse, so I did it."

"What happened to 'coven etiquette'?" Dean asked.

"There's no rule that says a councillor can't perform a hand-fasting if the head hasn't forbidden it," I shrugged, "Little loophole that I used to help a friend who no longer likes me,"

"Well, we need to see what's going on down there." Sam reasoned.

"So send someone else," I snapped, "But I'm not going there and there's nothing you can do to make me."

Something touched my shoulder and I blacked out moments later.

…

I woke up, dazed, confused, once again wearing the silver bracelet Castiel had had made for me and handcuffed to aforementioned Castiel in the back of the car.

"I hate you," I growled.

"I know," Castiel replied, "But this needs to be done."

"Why?"

"Because it has to be done," Castiel typically didn't answer my question; he just sat there and stared emotionlessly at the back of Dean's head.

"Enjoying the view?" I quipped testily; being knocked out by magic angel dust had made me exceedingly grouchy.

He ignored me; there was no point in trying to goad him if he wasn't going to respond, so I got as close to him as I possibly could, making sure he was uncomfortable, and then went to sleep.

…

Once again we were pulling up to a motel when I woke up again. Castiel was leaning against the car window, his eyes shut, and breathing evenly.

So much for not needing to sleep.

I sat up and fidgeted impatiently while the brothers went to pay for the rooms.

"Stop it,"

"What?" Castiel was staring at me with a curious expression on his face.

"Stop moving."

"I'm _bored_!" I insisted, "I can't go anywhere because I'm handcuffed to you of all people – why'd you volunteer anyway?"

"Dean insisted," Castiel looked straight ahead again.

"Dean insisted," I raised an eyebrow, "And you do what Dean says?"

Castiel refused to answer.

I laughed; "well look at you; Castiel, angel of the lord, official badass and some human's bitch,"

"I'm not –"

"I'm joking, Castiel." I chuckled, "For all your awesome angel powers and rumoured ability to feel you haven't quite mastered mortal humour yet."

"Come on, lovebirds," Dean opened the door, "Hide the 'cuffs; we're going inside."

"Can't we just lose the 'cuffs?" I asked, "I'm not going to go anywhere am I?" I gestured to the bracelet on my wrist.

"Nah," Dean shrugged, "It's funny when you two have to cooperate."

…

We didn't have to wait very long before we received a visit from Hexer.

The handcuffs had been removed and Castiel had vanished as usual, which left Sam at his computer, Dean pigging out on some take-away of some sort (I still don't understand how humans can eat such disgusting food) and me sat on one of the beds reading a spell book when Hexer arrived.

"So," he sneered as Sam reached for his gun, "These are the people you have chosen to associate yourself with,"

"Nice to see you too, Hexer," I replied, not looking up from my book but motioning to Sam to lower his gun, "My apologies for not performing the usual courtesies but I was unconscious when we arrived."

Hexer snorted and flicked some of his blond hair from his steely grey eyes, "_they_ managed to knock you out?"

"Don't be so ridiculous," I snorted, "They may be the Winchesters but they can't keep someone like me trapped for long without help,"

"An angel?" Hexer snorted, "Don't be ridiculous; the angels have never taken much interest in our kind,"

"They do now," I shrugged, "don't ask me why; I have no idea,"

"The bracelet?" Hexer only now seemed to notice, "Can it only be removed by an angel?"

"Nothing gets past you does it, Hexer?" I chuckled, "Specially made; I took great pains to irritate him when he forced it onto my wrist,"

"So where is this angel?" Hexer asked, "The grapevine never tells me anything of your movements; apart, of course, from that rather spectacular disruption you caused to the life-leech coven – I never expected you to turn them to dust,"

"I actually didn't mean to," I replied, deciding to hide the interference of my grandfather, "I've never been any good at song-casting,"

"I remember," Hexer seemed faintly amused by my imprisonment, "Well, seeing as you're here we're having a ball tomorrow evening to celebrate the summer solstice – you and your… friends… are welcome to come along," he mock-bowed at me and vanished.

"So that's Hexer?" Sam asked; I nodded.

"He's a dick," Dean decided, "Why were you friends with him?"

"Long story involving a hospital ward," I shrugged, "I can't even remember half of it,"

"So are we going to this ball thing?" Sam asked.

"Nah," Dean shrugged.

"We have to," I replied, "an invitation from an average warlock is one thing, but if it's from a coven leader you're obliged to go,"

"Oh yeah says who?" Dean asked.

"Cultural thing, Dean," I replied, "You're going."

Dean pulled a face.

"Was Castiel included in that invite?" Sam asked.

"I'd reckon so," I shrugged, "even if he wasn't I'm making him go – it's about time he learned to socialise,"

"You're enjoying torturing him aren't you?"

"You try being dragged every which way and being unable to use your gifts," I replied with a grim smile, "and then tell me you wouldn't try to irritate someone who put you there,"

…

Castiel and Dean, I could tell, were feeling very uncomfortable in their suits.

Sam, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind so much.

They all, I noticed, seemed rather impressed with my outfit for the ball.

I'd gone for a simple black evening dress with a low back and a slit up the right-hand side to the middle of my thigh, I'd tied my hair up in a sort of messy bun but, as ever, a couple of locks got away and curled down either side of my face over the simple steel circlet I wore. Castiel had agreed to remove the bracelet for the duration of the evening, fortunately for me.

We pulled up outside the venue (Hexer had bought a large gothic-style house as soon as he had arrived in America) and joined the milling crowds inside.

"Remember," I said, mainly for Dean and Castiel's sakes, "Don't insult them. Nephilim get very angry when they're insulted and sometimes it doesn't take much, so you need to be very careful what you say."

"Yeah, yeah," Dean shrugged, "I'll be fine,"

I rolled my eyes at him.

"Vix!"

Emma, Hexer's wife, rushed forward to greet me.

"Hi, Emma," I smiled, "It's been a long time."

"Too long," Emma agreed, "So these are your friends?"

"Associates, technically," I replied, "This is Sam and Dean," I indicated to the Winchesters respectively, "And this is Castiel."

"_The_ Castiel?" Emma stared at him, "The one who you had that fight with about a year ago?"

I frowned, "What?"

"Oh, you don't remember?" Emma dragged me away from the other three (the Winchesters instantly converged on Castiel), "You remember the whole thing with Lillith and the seals?"

"Who doesn't?" I asked.

"Well, I remember you were talking to me about this angel," Emma replied, "Someone who was working with the angels to trigger it off, you know? The 'obey orders' type?"

I sort of remembered something about angels, but the memories were still fuzzy.

"And?"

"Well," Emma grinned, "One of them was Castiel. Balthazar said you were there when he got hauled back that time before the final seal was broken."

I looked at her, "How come I don't remember?"

"I don't know," Emma shrugged, "Neither did Balthazar – the memories are there, he said, but it's like something wiped them out."

"What could do that?"

"An angel?" Emma suggested, "A demon? You, maybe?"

"Me?" I asked, raising my eyebrow sceptically.

"It's possible," Emma shrugged as Hexer appeared, "Maybe you should try and bring them back again?"

"Vixen," Hexer bowed, "I was wondering if I could have a word with you?"

"Um, I guess so," I shrugged, "what about?"

"Shall we?" he indicated the dance floor where some other witches and warlocks were dancing.

"Just like old times?" I was slightly amused by his suggestion but danced with him anyway.

"Your friend, the angel," Hexer spoke quietly, "He's hiding something rather serious."

"Serious how?" I asked.

"I mean the history between the two of you that you don't seem to remember," Hexer was impatient.

"Well if I don't remember it then how's it me?" I countered.

"Because I remember you mentioning him," Hexer responded, "you knew him before you came to us, even; I remember you mentioning him when we first met."

"I don't remember ever mentioning him before."

"They took your memories when they recalled him – at least according to a friend of mine,"

"Which friend?" I asked, curiosity overtaking me.

"Just a friend," Hexer replied evasively, "It's from him that I discovered a certain particular piece of information concerning affairs in heaven."

"Which was?"

"The angels are trying to hide something from us," Hexer explained, "mainly from you; I found out what it is today,"

"How?" I asked, "demons, maybe?"

"Balthazar," Hexer replied, "Not our Balthazar, but the angel of the same name; he told me."

"Told you what, Hex?" I asked; I only ever called him that when I was irritated.

"Vixen," Hexer looked me straight in the eye, his steel-cold glare revealing that that he was not lying to me.

"Heaven is at war with itself."

…

**Dun, dun, DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!**

**What will happen next, I wonder?**

**Well, I don't because I'm writing it but you know XD**

**Click the green button!**


	6. Chapter 6

Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Disclaimer: don't own supernatural, blah, blah, you know how it works XD**

**It's FINALLY picking up pace! :D WOOHOO!**

**I apologise in advance for ranting, but I've asked in pretty much every chapter for people to review instead of just favouriting or adding this story to the alert list and I've had enough; I'm considering holding this story hostage until I get reviews, which I've never done before because it makes people sound grouchy but I'm out of ideas, so PLEASE review if you like the story instead of just adding it to alerts! You don't like it when people do it to you so why should the rest of us have to put up with it?**

**Thank you. Sorry again.**

**Oh and this one is a multi-POV chapter so… :P**

Chapter 6

I went home early, feigning a headache, but Hexer decided to detain the Winchesters and Castiel a while longer.

For once his contrariness was useful.

The spell was simple; one that new-agers tried often to find lost things, but it also worked for memories as well as possessions, as I had discovered when I first attempted it.

The ritual was complete; I had cast the circle, said the spell and prayed for success.

So far, nothing had happened.

"This is useless," I muttered before moving to end the circle.

A splitting headache suddenly split my skull – memories were returning to me; memories of my childhood before I had appeared to the council, then memories of Anael, the angel Castiel believed I had killed.

And then the truth; that Castiel and I had known each other in Salem. How we had been friends until I reached the age of nine, when the witch hunter had arrived in the town, how I had been abandoned to my fate, to watch my family die.

How Anael had saved me, and how Anael had died 3 years ago.

I woke up, dazed, disoriented, in the middle of my circle. I closed it immediately and crawled to the bed in the corner of the room, not even bothering to change out of my dress. I was unconscious before my head hit the pillow.

…

Sam, Dean and Castiel arrived back at the motel a couple of hours later. I'd woken up again but had pretended to be asleep until Sam and Dean had gone into their own room.

Castiel was just sat there on the sofa with that same, unreadable expression on his face.

"You knew, didn't you?" I asked.

He looked at me.

"Knew what?"

"You knew we'd been friends before," I sat up, "You were the only thing I could have ever truly called a friend as a child, I was the only one who could see you."

Castiel looked away again; his expression had changed.

"But where were you," I asked, "When my town was raised to the ground? Where were you when I had to watch my mother and father and my three sisters be gutted like dogs by raiders? I had to send my baby brother down a river with nothing but a note indicating his name and a few basic protection charms, I didn't even know if he survived until Balthazar explained his lineage to me when I was twelve!"

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, you're sorry?" I asked; "It took another angel to save my life and send me into this time? and then for her to save me again three years ago, at the cost of her own life, but that's alright because _Castiel_ says he's _sorry_," I laughed mirthlessly, "what happened? Did your big scary bosses threaten to cast you out if you continued to watch the town? Did you just get bored? Did you decide that we clearly weren't worth your valuable time watering plants or whatever it is you do all day in heaven?"

"I had no choice," Castiel replied, "I was ordered to leave, another angel was supposed to take my post."

"But nothing happened, did it?" I growled, "You promised me my family were safe – nothing was coming to harm them, they would be fine and look what happened!" my fists were clenched and I was wondering how far I'd have to jump to hit Castiel in the face, "They died; I lost them. You broke your promise and they died because of your stupid orders!" I was shouting now, fighting back tears at the memory I had shut out as a child.

"We've been through this before," Castiel shook his head, "A year ago,"

"Yeah, when you got hauled back to heaven and they locked my memories away," I cried, "I remember what you said then, too; 'the lord works in mysterious ways' and that's just a cop-out for people who can't think of a decent ex–"

He grabbed me and slammed me against the wall.

"I tried." He yelled at me, "The Lord knows I tried to do something, anything that would stop them from destroying that town. Do you have _any idea_ how hard it was to stand there and watch while those innocent people were slaughtered? _My father's creations_ were turning on each other, just like they are now, and I couldn't do anything." He glared at me, "I have helped to save the earth a thousand times since that day; don't you _dare_ accuse me of being a coward!"

"So says the man who let my family d-" what happened next left me in shock.

Castiel had pressed his lips to mine, preventing me from voicing any more fury in his direction. He was stronger than I was, I already knew that from previous scraps, but that didn't stop me trying to turn tables on him; I fought back, trying to gain the upper hand rather than pushing him off (no, I don't know why I opted for that decision). I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him closer –

Unfortunately, Dean chose that moment to walk into the motel room. He coughed slightly.

Cas and I separated; I stayed where I was, but Castiel practically flew across the room with a panicked expression on his face.

"Am I interrupting something?" Dean asked with a grin.

"Shut up, Dean," I replied, trying to ignore the fact that my face was heating up at an alarmingly fast rate and silently thanking whatever it was that had given me my dark-ish skin.

"I just…" Dean fumbled, "I, uh, needed to speak to Cas. But if you're busy –"

Castiel shook his head and walked out of the room; Dean shrugged and followed.

I just stood there for a moment before I groaned and sunk to the floor, burying my head in my hands.

…Dean…

Sam and I rolled our eyes when we heard Vix and Cas yelling at each other next door.

"Will they _ever_ get along?" I asked; Sam shrugged.

"Probably not," he replied, "After all; she's descended from one of the angels who refused to fight in the first war against Lucifer and Cas'll still remember what happened,"

I shrugged and made a non-committal noise before flopping back onto the motel bed.

"Man that ball thing was weird," I said; after Vix had gone home with her migraine the coven leader, Hexer or whatever his name was, had decided to tell us all the embarrassing things that Vix had done as a kid.

And my teachers thought I was a problem child.

"I wonder what they're arguing about this time?" I mused.

"Well it's either about something Vix did or something Cas did," Sam shrugged, not looking up from his laptop, "It always is."

I shrugged again and then jumped as a massive crash was heard in the other room.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to let them kill each other?" Sam, ever the nerd, looked up uncertainly.

"Well they're not going to stop even if we step in," I shrugged, "so there's not much point,"

"Dean," Sam sighed, "I think Cas might want to see this."

I rolled my eyes and walked round to the room next door, opened the door –

And stared at Cas and Vix who were full-on making out against a nearby wall.

Cas jumped several feet backwards when they noticed I was stood there.

This was too good an opportunity to miss.

"Am I interrupting something?" I grinned; Cas had the exact same expression on his face as he'd had when I'd taken him to the brothel about a year ago.

"Shut up, Dean," Vix snapped, but she sounded quieter, sounding more shocked than annoyed.

"It's just…" I was still trying to deal with what had just happened, "I, uh, needed to speak to Cas, but if you're busy –"

Cas just pushed past me and walked out the door, evidently deciding he'd had enough of where the conversation was headed. I shrugged and followed, closing the door behind me.

"Well, well," I chuckled, "I didn't know you had it in you, Cas,"

"Stop it, Dean," Cas snapped, "I'm not discussing this,"

"Dude," I grinned, "you were full-on eating her face! What's not to discuss?"

"Dean," even I knew that Cas was using his dangerous voice, "I don't want to discuss it."

"Alright, buzz-kill," I shrugged, but only one thought was going through my mind.

_Sammy's gonna love this._

...Sam…

Cas and Dean walked in about ten minutes after Dean went to fetch him – the grin on Dean's face was worrying me.

"I think I know where Gabriel's horn is," I explained, ignoring Dean's snort from behind me and opened up the article; "A museum in Baltimore, Missouri; 'a horn believed to be several hundred years old of ivory, gold and mother of pearl donated to us by an elderly couple from Annapolis.' Sound like the horn to you?"

"It's possible," Castiel nodded, "But if it is then Raphael is bound to be aware of its presence by now,"

Vix walked in at that moment.

"Where're we headed?" she asked.

"What?"

"You're looking for something, right?" I noticed she was pointedly avoiding Castiel's eye.

"Uh, yeah," I replied, "Gabriel's horn. What?" I asked as Dean snorted again.

Vix glared at him, "Dean, if you haven't got anything useful to add to this conversation then don't say anything. Sam, Gabriel's horn's not in Baltimore any more."

I immediately started a search.

"How do you know?" it was Castiel who asked the question.

Vix looked him in the eye.

"She's right," I cut in as a news article popped up on the screen; "It was stolen two days ago."

Vix didn't seem surprised.

"Amaros just called in," she explained, "according to his contacts, Raphael has the horn."

Dean summed it up in one word.

"Crap."

...

**Uh-oh! What are they going to do now? XD**

**Well you'll find out when I write the chapter, but I would like to get more reviews this time. if I don't then I WILL hold the chapter after next hostage! And no, I'm not joking, I'm deadly serious.**


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